


Mediation

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [40]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: A fic written for a prompt on the r/WritingPrompts subreddit:[CW]Write a story about a dysfunctional dragon family from the perspective of the knight who keeps getting sent to slay them.
Series: Prompt fills [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823
Kudos: 1





	Mediation

I hook Lyron's reigns to the hitching post at the bottom of the path and turn the wheel to open the little sluice gate that will allow water from the stream to flow through the little channel that serves as a trough. Hanging a feed bag between two trees, I remove his tack and set it to one side. This visit isn't usually a quick one, and my steed may as well be comfortable.

It _used_ to be quick. Find the dragon's lair, climb up to dragon's lair, kill dragon, move on to the next one. Unfortunately that had consequences. Dragons are _massive_ reservoirs of magic, absorbing the natural ambient magic of the area in which they live. We didn't realise this until we'd almost completely wiped them out. Without the dragons the magic ran rampant, causing problems and... changing things. Even the magical creatures changed, including the dragons themselves. With the magic contained within fewer dragons, they seem to have become more like humans and less like... beasts.

A series of bellows rocks the mountain above me. I know that the villagers who've called for me will only hear a furious roar, and will be quaking in their homes now. I, on the other hand, can hear the _words_ inside the cry. Well, the arguments.

Yeah, that's what magic did to _me_. I can understand dragons. All of my fellow knights are similarly enhanced. It's really brought peace to the kingdoms. Oh, we still kill the old foes, when they can't be negotiated with, but it's rare to find a village burned to the ground by dragonfire, or a merchant caravan butchered by trolls.

We only ride out in numbers for the Cave Elves now. They _cannot_ be reasoned with. The magical surge awakened something in the deep, a Darkness that drove the peaceful miners and craftsmen mad, transforming them into bloodthirsty marauders and slavers. Any activity from them _has_ to be put down quickly, lest innocents suffer.

The mountain shakes again. A few small rocks tumble down the side of the path. A gout of flame bursts out of the entrance of the lair ahead of me and I sigh. It's one of _those_ arguments. Just brilliant. I hope that the Order's armourer has done a good job on the flame repellent and heat dissipation runes this time. Friranth isn't always good at remembering that I am, for all my skill with the draconic language, merely a human and therefore rather more flammable and less durable than her husband and children.

It's a good thing that Hurdar's magic is inclined more towards healing. I'd have died several visits ago if not for his skills.

"Hello?" I shout into the lair. It's only polite to announce your arrival. The days of just striding in are long gone.

"Fuck off, we're busy!" Ah, Friranth, so eloquent as always.

"It's me, Hrold. We need to have a talk." Again. This is my third visit here in as many months. This lot just _won't_ settle down and behave. Unfortunately when they gained human intelligence, they also seemed to develop some human _problems_.

"Hmmmmph. If you _must_." I carefully enter the cave. Friranth actually melted some stone this time, and it's dripping down from the top of the great arched entrance.

Friranth is in the entry chamber. Her middle daughter, the adolescent Gerda, is also there. With wings spread and mouths agape, both dragons have clearly been arguing. Sadly this is nothing new. These two butt heads _frequently_. Looking at Gerda more closely I can see the 'problem'. By draconic standards, the jewellery that adorns Gerda's frame is positively indecent. The human equivalent would be for a woman to go out dressed merely in her supporting garments. I certainly wouldn't let _my_ daughter go out dressed as such.

I can just see Hurdar's head poking out of the main chamber behind Friranth. He really is _such_ a wimp. I have no idea how he managed to court a firecracker like Friranth in the first place. Well, I guess first I need to get these two talking at a reasonable volume and into the main chamber so we can actually _discuss_ things.

See, while _I_ know that this little family group are the draconic equivalent of those bad neighbours that every village has, the average human _doesn't_ know that. And when they hear them shouting, they get very nervous in anticipation of the old days. And with the old days comes pitchfork wielding mobs, and having a protective dragon mother wipe _those_ out in defence of her hatchlings would not help inter-species relations.

So here I am, having to mediate a draconic family dispute.

This is _not_ why I became a knight!


End file.
